Touch
by Dawnlight-6
Summary: Because the world needs another story about Haruka and Michiru getting together.


Author's Note:

I've been gone for quite a while, doing other things, but this story just sort of started writing itself, and I thought, why not? It's time to do something fun.

Thanks again to everyone who has read and reviewed my fanfics on here over the years; all the support and appreciation has been fantastic.

* * *

><p>Tenoh Haruka had always prided herself on her self-control. No matter what the situation was, whether monsters or exams or sliding round a tight corner on the circuit at three hundred kilometres an hour, she knew she could count on a cool head to carry her. But unfortunately of late, that self-control had taken to deserting her when she needed it most, which was whenever Kaioh Michiru was around.<p>

After three months of monster busting, Haruka was adjusting well to her mission and her new-found identity as Uranus. She wasn't adjusting so well to Michiru; at least, not to the feelings she caused.

She would answer the call of destiny and join Michiru when there was fighting to be done, because that was the vow she had taken, but the rest of the time…The rest of the time Haruka forced herself to be deaf to the temptation of Michiru's call. She knew Michiru was aware of it, could hardly fail to notice that Haruka had taken to avoiding her in Mugen's refined hallways and ignoring the invitations she left on her phone. It was an untenable situation; one that could not carry on given the closeness with which they were required to work.

And thus Haruka wasn't entirely surprised when, after school one late afternoon, she looked up from the classroom floor she was cleaning to find Michiru leaning far too casually in the doorway, watching her.

"Detention?" she inquired.

Haruka went back to mopping the floor. "Apparently I volunteered. I'm full of school spirit like that."

"I was investigating," Michiru supplied. "I found a room downstairs that may be of interest."

"Show me?" Haruka asked, willingly discarding her mop in favour of her destined birthright.

"Another time. There was something else I wanted to talk to you about." With a sway to her hips, Michiru approached, and Haruka found herself backing up until she was pinned to the nearest wall, Michiru's arms on either side of her. "You've been avoiding me."

"Yeah, I have." There was no point denying it.

"Why? Have I upset you? Are you having regrets?"

"No," said Haruka. "Nothing like that."

"Then?"

Michiru brushed their bodies together, accidentally perhaps, and Haruka bit the inside of her bottom lip to stop a moan escaping as sparks flew through her in response.

"Why do you keep running away from me?" Michiru whispered.

Haruka dragged in a breath, embarrassingly loud. "Because I can't be around you," she croaked.

"Why not?" Michiru's blue eyes were implacable, not allowing Haruka to look away, not allowing her not to answer.

"Because I want to touch you," Haruka finally said. "As more than a friend. I want to touch you…as a lover." Her voice came out husky, intimate, not sounding like her own. She felt her face heat in shame at her boldness, and before she could see Michiru's reaction she looked away, fixating on the trees waving madly outside. She knew Michiru was still watching her, but she wasn't ready to look back yet. She didn't want to see the ruinous chaos her words had just caused.

_As a lover_. That last bit had probably been redundant, implied already in _more than a friend_. But Haruka had said it anyway, just to be clear. To make it crystal clear what she was, and what sort of things she dreamed about at night. It was meant to scare Michiru off.

Only Michiru wasn't going. Confused, Haruka glanced back into her eyes, and found it a risky venture. Immediately she was captured in a heated blue gaze that reflected every bit of her own intensity.

"And if I want the same thing, what's wrong with that?" Michiru's hand hovered over Haruka's hip, almost inviting her into a caress.

"You," Haruka grated out. "You don't want that."

"Don't," said Michiru in a quiet, dangerous voice, "tell me what I want."

Haruka didn't trust herself to speak. She didn't trust herself to move. She plastered herself to the wall rigid as a bean pole and regarded the woman trapping her to see what she would do next.

"You're so stubborn," Michiru cursed. "You're so god-damned stubborn." Abruptly she stepped back and turned away, arms hugging herself, shoulders tight.

Releasing the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, Haruka sagged. Her eyes made a beeline for the door and she considered running. That was always what she did. She ran. She ran from everything.

She didn't run.

Dreaming about being with someone was one thing; knowing it might actually be possible was something else. Haruka didn't know what to do with that information. She'd never been in this position before.

Did this mean she didn't have to feel guilty for admiring the sweep of frothy aqua curls tumbling over Michiru's shoulders? The tilt of her pale elegant neck whose curve seemed to be begging to be kissed?

Michiru half turned back to her. "You're still here."

"I know," said Haruka. She thought, just maybe, she was even more surprised by this than Michiru was. "I," she admitted, "I don't know what to do."

Pursing her lips, Michiru leaned back against a nearby desk and examined Haruka like a particularly tricky equation in math class.

"You'll admit what you want but you're too afraid to go after it? That's not like you."

"Until I met you, there was no risk in going after the things I wanted. That made it easy."

Michiru quirked an eyebrow. "I'm a risk?"

"You are. Maybe a risk bigger than I can afford."

"And I," said Michiru quietly. "I have taken no risks here?"

"Way more than me. But…"

"But?"

Was there even an answer to that? Haruka was no longer sure. "This is all still new to me. Some of it, is not so new to you. The parts about fighting. The parts about figuring out how to reshape everything else around that. You've been doing that longer."

"Okay. I get that." Michiru gave a reluctant nod. "But…I can't not see you, Haruka. That's not going to work for me."

Haruka considered this. It was all very well to say she wasn't sure, to say it and even know it was true. But, if she was honest with herself, what had mostly stopped her until this point was her conviction (apparently wrong) that Michiru would be affronted if she did anything of the sort.

So, if that wasn't an obstacle, what was going to stop her, especially considering the sorts of situations they were likely to find themselves in – or even if they found themselves in _normal _situations, like this one in a Mugen Academy classroom.

"I can't guarantee…How long I'll hold out."

With a sweeping toss of her hair, Michiru said, shockingly, "I don't want you to hold out at all. You failing to hold out is not a problem for me."

"Well it's a problem for me!"

"Why?" demanded Michiru, exasperation in her voice.

"Because, I told you—"

"It's new. It's risky. It will still be just as new, and just as risky, whenever we start."

This was true, but Haruka still wasn't convinced. Aside from anything else, she'd taken a stand now, and was determined to stick to it. She crossed her arms. Michiru watched the gesture with trepidation.

"We can be friends for now. We can see each other in public. No going to each other's places."

"Right. So if there's an attack, and I'm hurt, you'll just leave me to go home and deal with that on my own, will you?"

Of course Haruka wouldn't, any more than Michiru would in the opposite scenario.

"We can make an exception for situations like that."

"Haruka," Michiru spoke in a soft, throaty voice that sent heat pooling traitorously into Haruka's belly. "I want you to touch me."

"That is not fair," Haruka bit out through clenched teeth.

With embers glowing in her eyes, embers and something softer Haruka was too afraid to decipher, Michiru stepped closer and tangled their hands together, nothing more.

"Why do you have this perverse need not to accept things gracefully when they're offered to you?" she whispered, mouth half-quirking in a smile.

Tiling her head up, she just brushed Haruka's lips with her own. Stars exploded behind Haruka's tightly closed eyes, and her blood surged as her body longed to be united with the woman before her.

"That," Michiru clarified, drawing back, "is not going to happen again. Not until _you_ kiss _me_."

She quietly exited the room, leaving Haruka with a dirty mop and a half clean floor and the distinct feeling that she'd just won the battle but lost the war.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, on a night when the rain came down in petulant toddler-tantrum bursts, Haruka and Michiru staggered into Haruka's apartment, dripping water and blood onto the floor. Haruka just managed to slam the door shut before she sank down against it, hissing at the pain in her right thigh.<p>

"Let me see," said Michiru.

"Not that bad," Haruka insisted.

Michiru ignored this blatant untruth and began unfastening Haruka's belt, next working free her buttons and sliding down the zip of her Mugen Academy trousers. The sinuous sound was out of place in the context. With a few tugs, Michiru had the pants off, and to hide her mortification Haruka shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it onto the pile. It was soaked anyway.

Blood globbed out of the hole in her leg and onto the floor.

"Why is it bleeding so much?" Haruka asked, hearing the edge of fear in her voice.

"It's nicked a vein, I think."

"Will it stop?"

"It will stop," Michiru assured her. She backed up her promise with a gentle squeeze of Haruka's hand. "I'll go and get the first aid kit."

After packing and dressing the wound to her satisfaction, Michiru helped Haruka up. Haruka grimaced at the puddle of blood on the floor.

"I'll deal with it," said Michiru. "Go get cleaned up, and change into something dry."

With the hem of her white shirt stained red, Haruka tottered off to the bathroom. She emerged a short while later in shorts, a concession to her injury, and an old long sleeved t-shirt softened by time.

The blood was already gone from the floor. She could hear Michiru in her kitchen. After a struggle with herself, she admitted that she liked it.

"The bathroom's free," she called. "And there's pajamas for you on the bed."

"Pajamas?" Michiru queried, appearing with a crease between her brows.

"It's nearly midnight. I probably can't drive you home."

Michiru chuckled elegantly, one hand raised to cover her mouth. "So solicitous of my safety Haruka, as if I didn't just take down a monster with you."

"It's not about that. It's about being polite."

"What does one offer as the alternative then? In polite circles, of course."

Haruka met her teasing gaze with series eyes. "You can sleep with me."

The laughter lurking at the edges of Michiru's mouth faded, and Haruka heard her give a small, hitched breath. "Is that the polite thing to offer?"

"It's what I'm offering."

With a tilt of her head that took in Haruka's condition, Michiru seemed to be asking about the exact particulars of this most unexpected offer.

Staggering a little, Haruka got to her feet. Michiru regarded her almost warily, but softened in spite of herself as Haruka tried to smooth a tangle out of her still wet hair. "I'm not used to having other people in my space," Haruka explained, concentrating on the stubborn snarl under her fingertips and finding one shell-delicate ear. "It's not always easy for me. But I like you in my space. I like having you with me. Even with painkillers, I doubt I'll sleep much tonight. I thought it would give me the chance…To see how it feels. As long as you don't mind having a restless bed partner."

Michiru let out a shuddery breath and leaned into Haruka, their bodies touching all the way down. Her uniform left fresh dampness on Haruaka's clothes. With a strange catch in her voice she said, "You'll sleep if you let me hold you tonight."

"How do you know that when I don't?"

"I know." The words emerged, quiet but certain.

Her skin was cold to Haruka's touch, and she shivered suddenly, the swift tremor breaking through her collected calm, her mocking playfulness.

"Go shower," said Haruka, pushing her away gently. "I'm going to see what you've done to my kitchen."

In the kitchen, there was a pile of shredded cabbage and two unopened packets of noodles. A quick search of the fridge and cupboards found not much else. It had, Haruka reflected, probably been too long since she last went grocery shopping.

She made up the meal, pathetic as it was, and offered it apologetically to Michiru when she returned.

Michiru smiled, a glimmer that lit up Haruka's world, then she frowned. "We're going to bed right after we eat this. You should already be in bed."

Haruka felt her face heat and ate her cabbage.

* * *

><p>"Why do these pajamas fit me?" Michiru mused in the dark. "They can't be yours."<p>

Her eyes swivelled questioningly towards her bed partner, though Haruka sensed the movement rather than saw it.

"It came in a two pack but one pair was the wrong size. I never got round to taking it back."

"Ah, it must be destiny."

"The one who fits the pajamas…Like Cinderella with the glass slipper, huh?"

Adjusting herself cautiously, Haruka turned onto her side, injured leg uppermost. It brought her face to face with the woman lying in her bed.

Michiru giggled faintly. "Yes, like that," she agreed.

Their hands lay on the mattress between them, not quite touching. This went on for quite a while, just their quiet breathing in the dark. Haruka's foolishness that afternoon at Mugen was brought home to her anew as she realised that Michiru wasn't going to do anything here unless she asked her to.

Unless she expressed the desire for something to happen.

"Michiru." It was a shamed surrender and a soft seduction all at once. "I want you to hold me."

With a happy sigh Michiru shifted closer, arms encircling Haruka like they knew exactly where to fit. One pillowed her head, her fingers combing through the short locks of Haruka's hair; the other curved around her waist, pulling her in close.

"I won't let you go," she whispered.

"You really want me, don't you?" Haruka said it wonderingly, unable to imagine what she'd done to deserve the fierce warrior's heart she could feel beating next to her own.

"Of course. That's the message I've been sending with the subtly of anvils all this time."

"That's not really what I'm talking about though." She nuzzled Michiru's shoulder; said somewhat irrelevantly, "you smell like my soap."

She felt a flutter in Michiru's chest.

"I was scared tonight when you got hurt." Michiru sounded more ashamed than Haruka had a few moments ago. "I'm still scared. I don't want to lose you."

"We can't really control things like that."

"I know." The misery in Michiru's voice was like neverending rain.

"If one of us falls, the other has to go on."

"I know that too."

Wretched tears not her own leaked onto Haruka's cheek.

Finding it strange that she was the one who was comforting, Haruka edged her arms around Michiru's waist and brushed her thumb over a cotton-clad shoulder blade. "Michiru?"

"Mmm?"

"You were right. I think I will sleep tonight."

The force of Michiru's sobs shook her whole body in Haruka's arms.

* * *

><p>For the next week, Michiru brought Haruka's lessons home from school. Haruka hobbled around her apartment and cooked for them, having provided Michiru with a grocery list which she obligingly filled. At night they held each other and slept in Haruka's bed, but didn't talk about it the rest of the time.<p>

It seemed to make Michiru happy to wear her destined pajamas. She kept wearing them even after she turned up with her violin and a bag of necessities from her own apartment.

Bored during the long days, Haruka did her homework and caught up on the laundry. When it was time to do the bedsheets, she hesitated. She realised she didn't want to wash the scent of Michiru off her sheets; wondered if she'd ever want to change them if she didn't know Michiru was coming home tonight.

All the reasons Michiru might not come home left an ache in her throat and a sharp need to make Michiru hers, while she still could. She washed the sheets anyway.

On Saturday night, Haruka woke at two a.m. to an empty bed and the bitter taint of darkness in her mouth. Her transformation stick responded to her only sluggishly, but she forced it to work. She'd gotten as far as the lounge room when the door to her apartment snicked open and Michiru crept back in.

Her eyes met Haruka's, shocked and guilty. Then, quietly, "I'm sorry, Haruka. I had to go."

Haruka wrestled with her anger, knowing Michiru had made the right decision to leave her behind.

"I know," she said finally. "You okay?" Michiru had what looked like gravel rash running up one side of her face.

"I'm fine. The monster's dealt with. Go back to bed."

Knowing Michiru would join her when she was ready, Haruka went back to bed. She heard the fridge opening as Michiru pilfered some late night snack, and listened to the shower run shortly afterwards.

Less than half an hour later Michiru was in Haruka's bed, smelling of disinfectant.

"You should have let me do that," Haruka huffed sleepily into her pillow.

"Do what?"

"Tend to you. Look after you."

"The shower washed all the dirt out. Doing this took about two minutes."

"Still…If I'm not allowed to protect you, I at least want to be able to do that."

She started as Michiru's arms wrapped themselves around her from behind, and nearly resisted. Michiru had never held her like this before – _no one_ had ever held her like this before, and Haruka probably would have gotten violent with anyone else who dared to try.

"I'm sorry," Michiru repeated. "I hoped you'd sleep through me being gone."

"Like I would."

Haruka's body flushed as Michiru fitted them more tightly together. It surprised her that she liked it, but she did. She liked the soft press of breasts to her back, the gentle torture of breaths gusting onto the nape of her neck. It wasn't fair, she thought, that Michiru often seemed to know what she'd like before Haruka herself did.

"You're wearing those pajamas again," she muttered.

"They're important, Haruka. They're the first gift you've given me."

"Not the first," Haruka disagreed. She passed over the fact that the pajamas hadn't exactly been a gift anyway, more of a convenience at the time. "When I picked up that transformation stick in the garage, I gave you my future. I gave you my life. Those were my first gifts to you."

"I know." The words were whispered into Haruka's skin. "I wish…That I hadn't wanted you to."

"I wouldn't have let anyone else take my place. I wouldn't let anyone else do this."

It wasn't clear to Haruka whether she was talking about fighting monsters or being with Michiru, intimate in the dark. Perhaps both.

In a soft murmur, Michiru replied, "I don't want anyone to do this but you." Her voice hinted that she wasn't talking about monsters.

Closing her eyes, lips unconsciously parting, Haruka remembered the feel of Michiru's kiss in the sunny Mugen classroom, the sweet, knowing brush of her lips, the unspoken promise of so much more.

Her breathing sped and she knew Michiru had to have noticed. It was three weeks since she'd told Michiru she wasn't sure how long she'd last. She didn't think she was going to last past this night. It was a war that Haruka didn't even want to win. With her own blood beating loud in her ears, she turned in Michiru's arms and traced the outline of her battle-bruised face with tender fingers. "Tonight," she whispered, lips almost grazing Michiru's but not quite, "I'm going to touch you as a lover. I'm going to touch you the way you asked me to."

When Michiru moved, Haruka was ready, and ducked her head away teasingly. With a low chuckle, she said, "now, now, Michiru, you promised to wait until _I_ kissed _you_, remember? You're not sticking to the arrangement."

"So kiss me," said Michiru, and this wasn't a tone Haruka had heard before. She sounded like she might shatter soon if Haruka didn't, and maybe even sooner if she did. Her body gave some shift beneath Haruka's so that Haruka suddenly found her centre pressed to Michiru's; she felt warm knees either side of her hips and thought she might die.

Making a noise that didn't sound like her, Haruka lowered her mouth and kissed Michiru. She tasted wild, like the sea. She tasted like Haruka's dreams come true. Michiru arched up into her, her spine a sinuous line of desire beneath the drag of Haruka's thumbnail. The pressure caused a dull throb in Haruka's half-healed wound and a stronger one elsewhere.

Hungrily, they kissed, breaths and moans slipping between them; one of Haruka's hands winding tighter and tighter into the sheets as she tried not to lose her sanity. Of its own accord a rocking rhythm had started between their bodies, insistent and maddening, and in a haze of pleasure Haruka smelled soap and Michiru and disinfectant. She had no idea she could want anything this much.

It went on, the rocking becoming harder. Michiru worried at Haruka's neck with strange little sounds escaping her; Haruka gave a bitten-off cry at the sensation, knowing she'd have marks there tomorrow. They were more grinding and rubbing now, not breaking apart, Michiru surging to her without hesitation and Haruka flexing, back and forth, into her partner, hardly believing what she was doing.

Her hips, between Michiru's; Michiru wanting her like this, opening to her, desiring the friction of Haruka's touch against every part of her. Haruka's brain was half in denial about it and half already lost. Suddenly Michiru spasmed beneath her, clinging to Haruka like she was the only thing in the world. The sting of teeth seared Haruka's shoulder and Michiru made a sound that was a cry and a sob and Haruka's name all rolled into one.

Dumbfounded, Haruka stopped. Ragged breathing, hers and Michiru's both, filled the silence.

"You…Just from doing that?" she asked, proud and disbelieving all at once.

"Oh, don't make fun of me," Michiru groaned, her ribs brushing Haruka's with every still-tortured breath.

"Michiru, I wasn't making fun of you," Haruka protested, hurt. She tidied sweaty curls from Michiru's forehead, hand shaking at the enormity of what Michiru had just given her and the protective warmth blooming in her chest. "I just…Well, we didn't even take our clothes off yet."

"Haruka." Michiru's hands were hot on her cheeks. "Do you have any idea what it's been like to want you for this long, and to make myself wait? What you did to me when you said you were going to touch me? When you kissed me? When you, damn it all, said that your life and your future were mine? When you _gave yourself to me_, just like that? How long was I supposed to last when you did all that?"

She was fierce and petulant and mortified but Haruka gentled it all away with soft kisses to her face and neck, remembering to avoid the parts that hurt.

"Did I make you feel good?" she asked, a low rasp in her throat that was more uncertainty than conceit.

"Good," Michiru agreed, her voice sounding like a dreamy sigh. "Anyway," she added, ever so slightly smug, "I was in the better position for it."

"Is that so?" Haruka considered, fingers working busily on the buttons of Michiru's pajama top since there was no point holding back now. "Maybe then next time we do that I'll let you be on top."

"Oh, you'll _let me_, will you?" A faint giggle met Haruka's ears, along with the silky sound of fabric sliding from Michiru's skin. Playful, questing hands found their way beneath Haruka's t-shirt and traced over her ribs in thoughtful torment, before moving higher to cup her breasts. "What else will you let me do, Haruka?"

"Whatever you want." Haruka's voice emerged rough and needy; she peeled off Michiru's pajama bottoms and underwear together and held her naked in her arms, hands and lips charting every bit of this new, wondrous landscape of skin. She kissed a nipple, pleased with the sound it caused, dipped her hand between Michiru's legs and caressed her, heart pounding with how wet she was, because of what Haruka had done.

Michiru's eyes gleamed, dark and mysterious as the moonlit sea. "I already know what you want," she whispered, sending Haruka's clothes to join her own.

Really Haruka had nothing exactly in mind. For all she'd dreamed about it, knowing that she wanted this, she hadn't ever let herself imagine in too much detail what it might be like. She'd dreamed more of making love to Michiru, not believing perhaps that Michiru would want to make love to her in return.

Apparently there she'd been wrong again.

Michiru seemed determined to kiss every part of Haruka she could find; wrists and fingers and earlobes and the madly pattering pulse in her neck all falling before the onslaught. Her tongue traced a line of fire over Haruka's collarbone, she flipped them over so that Haruka was beneath her and Haruka went with her, wanting it. Michiru played her like she played her violin, lovingly, with expert care, and Haruka sweated and writhed and never wanted it to stop.

Michiru was touching her, _there_. Pleasure shot through Haruka's belly and thighs, making her legs twitch. It continued in a slow torture of circles, and Haruka whimpered a little when the fingers went away, exploring further. Her lips were discovered, both inner and outer, Michiru's touch gliding easily over skin slippery with arousal. She dipped her fingers lower, hesitating, and Haruka grabbed her wrist suddenly, realising what she intended to do.

"I won't if you don't want me to," said Michiru quietly.

Half cracking her eyes open, Haruka saw Michiru watching her carefully, saw her own legs splayed wide on the bed, Michiru's hand in the shadow between them.

"I do want it," Haruka allowed, voice hoarse. "But only because it's you. Never…Never anyone but you." Michiru understood everything with her eyes, accepted it all with a slight heave to her chest and an expression that said she too wanted Haruka to be hers alone like this forever.

Releasing her hold, Haruka lay back, not knowing which of them was breathing more loudly, and felt Michiru's fingers enter her for the very first time. She shuddered, back arching, nerves alive; Michiru took the opportunity to kiss her way down Haruka's stomach, mouth settling over her, tongue circling where her fingers had before. Haruka really was going to die.

The air was her element but it deserted her tonight. There could never be enough air, enough breaths, for this; being taken by the sea. She almost lost herself, all her awareness whittled down to building bliss as Michiru pleasured her, tongue laving her over and over, and her fingers moving faster inside.

Haruka was crying Michiru's name; she didn't know how loudly. Her hands were tangled into her lover's curls, anchoring her to what little reason she had left. Her body was coiled with a tightness more unbearable than the moments before a race when she waited for the starting gun to sound; every muscle straining to bring her closer to Michiru, to the moment of her release. She wanted it to come, welcomed it; her completion, the reality more glorious than anything she could have imagined.

Her moment of pleasure was blinding, flooding through her groin, her stomach, her legs, robbing her of all her other senses. Utterly saturated, she drowned, trusting herself to Michiru's hands, trusting that Michiru would bring her back again. As the contractions eased, she dimly became aware of Michiru's head pillowed on her thigh, her breath an aching tickle; of her fingers sliding wetly out from inside her. For quite a while, neither of them moved. Haruka suspected that her legs were never going to work again and she'd be an invalid for the rest of her life.

If it came with the perk of Michiru, though, she decided she didn't mind.

"You," she finally panted out, "are going to pay for that."

"My, that sounds enjoyable." Michiru laughed softly and kissed Haruka's thigh, but Haruka could tell she was more excited, less composed, than she pretended.

Testing her legs cautiously and finding they obeyed her after all, Haruka sat up and pulled Michiru into her arms. She let her hands wander, finding her palm fit perfectly into the curve of Michiru's lower back; she kissed Michiru's shoulder and bit down lightly, soothing afterward with her tongue. She didn't want to be the only one with marks tomorrow.

Her lips moved up the curve of Michiru's neck she had wanted to kiss so many times. Brushing teasingly over her ear, she murmured, "You just took me with you into the depths of the sea. Let me take you to fly with the wind."

"Please." It was a small, wanting sound that spoke of too many lonely nights, too many bitter tears witnessed by an empty room. But it became something else as Haruka touched her, slowly and more thoroughly than before. It turned into breathy gasps smothered on her skin and Michiru wrapped around her, body trembling, half-panting Haruka's name as Haruka stroked and circled that sensitive place.

Haruka pressed her fingers elsewhere, seeking permission, jaw clenching a little as she remembered what this had felt like earlier for her.

"Yes Haruka, please—" Michiru whispered again. She got no further before a moan overtook her as Haruka's long, tapered fingers strayed inside her, and Haruka moaned too at the feel of her.

Open-mouthed Haruka kissed her, tasting herself on Michiru's tongue, smelling Michiru's scent staining the sheets and mingling with her own. She was inside her, so deep, circling at the same time with her thumb and starting up some rhythm with tongue and fingers both that seemed to drive Michiru crazy.

The feel of doing this put even racing down the highway with the wind in her hair to shame; Haruka was electrified all over again and still she wanted more. Wanted more of Michiru; her body, her scent.

She tipped Michiru onto her back, going with her in a tangle of limbs. They ended up upside down on the bed, but really, who cared? That was the least of indignities Haruka's bed was suffering tonight.

Haruka kissed down sweat-slicked skin to a chorus of approving sounds; breathed against Michiru before she tasted her, rolling her like a pearl beneath her tongue. Michiru tightened round her fingers in response, shuddering, one hand steadying herself on Haruka's shoulder, the other sliding into the fine strands of her hair.

"Haruka, that's…"

"Fly with me," Haruka whispered, her lips somewhat obscured, to be sure, though Michiru seemed to understand anyway.

Soft fingers briefly fondled her cheek. She heard Michiru breathe, "only with you, Haruka," almost an echo of the words Haruka had spoken before, an exchange of vows binding them in the night.

With mouth and fingers and breath Haruka coaxed Michiru high and flew with her, taking her into the wind, into all the wild glory of freedom it offered. She gave every part of herself to Michiru, as much as she could, and Michiru gave herself back, body and heart and artist's spirit spiraling to meet her. Haruka felt it when she crested through the stratosphere, when she soared, every line of her body drawn in exquisite pleasure; felt Michiru spasm again, stronger than she had the first time, felt her contractions deep within, felt her sink slowly into the aftermath of boneless contentment and heard her sigh, happy and sated.

Slipping out of her, Haruka moved to cradle her jealously, never wanting to let her go. She thought of the unknown foe who had hurt Michiru earlier tonight and nearly lost it, wanting to bring down destruction on every enemy still lurking in the shadows of this planet, all so Michiru might sleep safe and undisturbed in her arms.

Oblivious, Michiru reached above her head, searching half-heartedly for something, perhaps a pillow, and encountering instead the foot of the bed.

"We're upside down?" she said, bemused. "When did that happen?"

Haruka snickered. "When you were paying attention to other things."

"Very distracting things," Michiru defended herself. She kissed Haruka sleepily and curled into her, and though Haruka tried to suppress the gasp that caused she didn't quite succeed.

Michiru's eyes flew open once more, considering Haruka from inches away.

"I'm – I'm fine Michiru," Haruka said quickly. "Really…"

"Hmmm," said Michiru meditatively, reaching between Haruka's legs, "are you? Are you sure you're not in a state because of what you were doing to me? Are you sure you don't want me to touch you?"

Pushing into clever fingers in spite of herself, Haruka confessed, "of course I want you to touch me. I just don't…You've only just…"

"Hush." Michiru kissed her again, heatedly this time. "Come here."

This was more of a rhetorical than an actual request, since Haruka couldn't have gotten closer even if she tried. Her breathing rasped in unison to the fingers moving over her insatiably; she groaned a little at how eager Michiru was to feel her again, to bring her joy. With everything coloured in deep ocean blues, Haruka found herself half watching, fascinated, as Michiru's hand moved between them; half watching Michiru watching her. It didn't take long for her to come like that, held in the hot glimmer of Michiru's eyes, her body jerking in confession as pleasure surged sweetly between her thighs.

Michiru chuckled into the soft press of lips that followed, apparently pleased with herself, and settled against Haruka once more, arms stealing around her waist. Haruka could feel she was sweaty and sticky and flushed; if she could see her better she'd probably look thoroughly enjoyed, lips and nipples and pink-coral parts all reddened from Haruka's touch. The thought gave Haruka a light, pleasant twinge.

Murmuring something indistinct that might have been goodnight, Michiru dropped her head to Haruka's shoulder and her breaths began to slow.

"Hey, don't go to sleep yet," Haruka grumbled, tweaking soft flesh conveniently in reach.

"Why not?" said Michiru huffily, starting awake.

"We're upside down, we have no pillows, and the coverlet is on the floor! _You_ might be happy to fall asleep like that, but I'm not."

"Okay, okay. You can find the coverlet though; I think you kicked it off."

"It was in the way," Haruka said reasonably. She felt around on the floor until she found the offending coverlet and pulled it back onto the bed with a grunt. Michiru was back in her usual spot, hair spreading over her pillow in a chaos of curls. Haruka tucked the covers in around them, tender despite her complaining, and elected to share Michiru's pillow rather than go back to her own.

She snuggled into Michiru's back, mirroring how they'd been earlier (seemingly now, much earlier) in the night, and was surprised when Michiru, who she'd half-thought was asleep already, murmured, "I like you holding me like this."

"I like holding you," Haruka replied, husky, the remembrance of monsters and all their rending claws pulling cruelly at a corner of her mind.

"Then keep doing it," said Michiru. 'For a long, long time."

Haruka touched her lips to Michiru's curls. "I will," she promised, and closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>Haruka awoke, inexplicably, to a thunderous frown the next morning. She stretched languidly, not quite awake enough to be worried, noting with secret relief that Michiru's face looked a lot better; a pattern of faded stippled dots replacing the angry, raw redness from the night before.<p>

"Haruka," said Michiru, her voice clearly upset. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Um, about what?" Haruka said, trying unsuccessfully to think of any essential information she had failed to disclose to her new partner.

"About this." Michiru drew back the covers to reveal the decidedly bloody bandage on Haruka's right thigh. "It was healing so nicely," she lamented. "Why didn't you say if I was hurting you?"

"You weren't!" Haruka protested, half sitting up. "I really didn't notice anything." Well, she reconsidered privately, maybe there had been a twinge now and then, but certainly nothing so bad she'd wanted to stop whatever else they were doing at the time.

Michiru gave an annoyed sigh. "Oh, just stay there. I'll go and get some things to clean you up and re-do the bandage."

"You really don't need to…"

"I do," said Michiru firmly. "Even if we can't protect each other on the battlefield, I'm still going to look after you, and you're going to look after me, and that's how it's going to be for as long as we're both here."

She caught Haruka's eye, daring her to disagree, and uncharacteristically Haruka found herself smiling soft as a zephyr.

"Okay."

"Good." Michiru nodded. Without bothering to put on a stitch of clothing, she padded out of the bedroom and returned shortly with the first aid supplies. With gentle hands she peeled off the old bandage and cleaned away the newly leaked blood, noting to Haruka that at least the wound seemed to have crusted over again and wasn't still bleeding. She covered it with packing gauze before starting to wrap it up again.

"Hey Michiru?"

Michiru glanced up questioningly.

"How would you feel about sleeping here all the time? Never going home?"

"I am home, Haruka," Michiru said after a pause, holding Haruka's gaze warmly in her own. She gifted her with a smile that was like sunlight sparkling on the sea, and kept on winding the fresh bandage around Haruka's thigh with that smile still clinging to her lips.

* * *

><p><strong>Many Years Later…<strong>

On a late afternoon when the bite of autumn was in the air and restless breezes tossed dying leaves carelessly down the street, Michiru returned home to find Haruka sitting on their bedroom floor in the midst of chaos.

"Ah, what are you doing?" she asked, edging cautiously into the room and nearly knocking over a stack of ancient _F1 Racing_ magazines.

"Clearing out the wardrobe," Haruka grunted. "We have too much junk, Michiru!"

"Hey, be careful with those."

Michiru snatched away the faded, tattered pajamas that Haruka had just found in a box and cradled them lovingly. "I was wearing these the first time we made love!" With a sly, sideways glance at her partner, she added, "the first time I had an orgasm with you."

Haruka choked and coloured. "Don't say things like that! Who even _says_ things like that? You sound like a bad manga."

"Well it's true. Also, they were the first gift you gave me. First physical-item gift, anyway."

"Michiru, I hate to break it to you all these years later, but they really weren't a gift. I just had them lying around."

"But you still gave them to me to wear to bed with you. That makes them a gift."

"Fine, fine," said Haruka, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "They can go on the pile of stuff to keep over there."

Smiling softly, Michiru folded the pajamas in her hands and placed them back safely in their box lined with tissue paper where they belonged.


End file.
